Happy birthday to me!

As of today, I'm officially in my late 50s. It's better than the alternative, I know, but I can't say I'm thrilled about it. Of course, it doesn't help that it's a dreary grey day, and my back is aching. (Long story short, I had a minor altercation with a bus this week from which I'm still recovering. On the upside, it's a four day weekend, my Facebook feed and inbox are flooded with birthday wishes, and I'm fortunate that I landed beside, and not in front of, the bus.)

It hasn't been a particularly productive day. I slept in this morning to recover from a busy work week, then headed to Mahone Bay with Husband for coffee and treats at The Barn. We enjoyed our stop there immensely. It's an awesome little place with a terrific vibe so we were in no hurry to head home when the time came - except that this little guy was waiting for us.  

While Husband took Jackie for a long walk in the drizzle, I noodled over the menu for our official birthday supper. Husband's birthday is just a few days before mine so we agreed we'd celebrate them together tomorrow night. He requested duck so I've settled on duck breast with a port and cherry sauce, rissotto with artichokes and oka, and a tossed salad. The rissotto will be a bit of an experiment - my attempt to recreate a dish we had at Picnic a few weeks ago. Fingers crossed it works out.

So - back to the subject of aging. It ain't for sissies, that's the sure. Lately, it feels as if it's one thing after another. Husband's has had three trips to the dentist to deal with broken teeth and failed fillings, along with visits to the audiologist and optometrist to be fitted for hearing aids and glasses. I've just ordered my first set of progressive lenses, am still recovering from plastic surgery on my cheek, and am creeping out of bed like an old lady on account of my aching back. If we weren't otherwise so fit and healthy, it would be downright depressing.

Of course, the really hard thing about aging is coming to grips with the reality that there are some dreams it's just too late to pursue. At some point, it doesn't  matter how much you want something or how hard you're prepared to work, it's simply out of reach. The answer, I suppose, is to dream new dreams, and/or get busy pursuing those that are still possible, but it's hard not to be discouraged by all the closed doors.

What say you, dear reader? Do you still dream new dreams?  When is it too late to pursue them, and how do you know?

Food, beach, puppy, and books - what more could you want?

We're three weeks into the New Year and things are going well so far. I'm finally over the flu that laid me low over the holidays, work is busy in a good way, my weight is more or less where I want it, I've been doing yoga more regularly, and finally started running regularly again a couple of weeks ago (albeit only short distances). I haven't made it to the swimming pool yet but am hoping that will happen in the next week or two.

Yesterday morning first thing, I whipped up a batch of biscuits, which we ate warm from the oven with homemade strawberry jam and blackberry jelly. They weren't as good as mom's but my skills are improving. The trick is to avoid overworking the dough, and pray for the right barometric conditions so that the biscuits rise properly. Yesterday's were the best I've made in awhile so I was pleased with them.

After breakfast, Jackie Blue and I headed out for our first real run together. Now that she's nearly a year old, and runs several kilometres at a time on the beach, I figured it was safe to take her for an easy 5 km run into town and back. The challenge was to keep her from stopping too often or dashing into the road. She did well all in all - though she seemed anxious about going so far from home without "poppa". She kept stopping to look back with a worried expression on her face until we turned to retrace our steps - after which she ran along happily, grinning from ear to ear. I took this portrait when we stopped for a moment at the waterfront park in town.

With breakfast and a run out of the way, Husband and I got busy prepping to host a birthday party for my mom last night. She'd mentioned she was hungry for lobster and we missed having any over the holidays because I was sick, so we picked up some good sized bugs (nearly 2 pounds each!) from a local fisher in the afternoon and Husband boiled them in time for the party. I have to say there's not much that tastes better than fresh, perfectly cooked lobster dipped in melted butter. Everyone enjoyed them thoroughly. And the best part was there were leftovers!

Today was more low-key. I was pooped after a busy week so slept in for a few hours, then spent an hour or two helping Husband with post-party cleanup before calling my best friend for a lovely long chat. This afternoon, we trimmed Jackie' front claws - a chore we'd been postponing because she hates it - then headed to Risser's Beach for a good walk. The wind was offshore so the beach was relatively warm and none of us was in a hurry to get home.

As I write this, Jackie's crashed in front of the fireplace, exhausted by all the activity yesterday and today, Husband's in the kitchen putting leftovers together for supper for tonight, and I should be upstairs prepping for the week ahead - but I'm finding it hard to get motivated. I love being in the country so weekends never feel long enough. What I really want to do is curl up by the fire with a good book.

Speaking of books, I've got seven or eight on the go at the moment. I've nearly finished a couple on street and travel photography that I picked up at the library last week, and I'm more than half way through a book I gave Husband for Christmas, Sputnik's Children by Terri Favro, which is great fun. I'm also a few chapters into Joan Clark's An Audience of Chairs, which I started over the holidays, John Demont's The Long Way Home, which I purchased when we attended his reading the week before last, and Under the Tuscan Sun, which I'm rereading for the fourth or fifth time. The only book I've gotten all the way through since the new year is Jann Arden's Feeding My Mother, which I read in one sitting over the holidays and plan to reread soon. It was wonderful! There are two or three other half-read books beside our bed in town - including Virginia Woolf's Orlando - which I still hope to finish eventually. I think maybe one of my goals for January and February should be to get through as many of them as possible.

I didn't used to read this way - in fits and starts, hopping from one book to the next. It's partly a function of never having more than a few hours at a time, but it has as much to do with my smartphone-addiction as anything. When I was younger, I fell into books, losing myself entirely in the worlds they created. That still happens from time to time, when I'm not too tired and there's nothing to interrupt my reading but, more often than not, I struggle to focus for more than an hour or two, so it takes me forever to finish a book.

I've been reflecting on how I use my smartphone since I read this article in the Globe and Mail a few weeks ago. It infuriates me to think about how often we're manipulated by the apps and devices we use, and makes me more determined than ever to regain control. I deactivated most app notifications ages ago, and am now working on minimizing my time on social media and setting aside smartphone-free hours every morning and evening. I don't have my addiction entirely under control yet but I'm making progress and enjoy having more time for other things.

That's it for now. I'll be back soon with my 2018 running goals and an update on my wee surgery, which is scheduled for the day after tomorrow.  If you're looking for good stuff to read in the meantime, I'd encourage you to check our my friend Keith's blog. He writes much more regularly than I do and always seems to have interesting, entertaining and thought-provoking things to say. He shares lots of lovely photos too.

Until next time, happy running and writing!

So long, 2017! Onwards to 2018!

A Christmasy family portrait - taken before the virus struck

We expected to spend the final weekend of 2017 celebrating the new year with friends from Ottawa but, unfortunately, we've both been sick as dogs since Christmas with a nasty cold/flu thingy, so they sensibly opted to postpone their visit until later. We were disappointed, of course, but they made the right decision. We wouldn't have wanted them to get this nasty virus, and the truth is we wouldn't have been very good company.

Honestly, I can't remember when I was last so sick for so long. For the first three days, I barely got out of bed and felt too awful to do much of anything. Since then, I've improved marginally each day, but it's been a long, hard slog - nearly two weeks now! 

I suppose it's fitting 2017 ended with a whimper since, in many ways, it was a tough year. There weren't any major catastrophes - just a long series of  mundane challenges that left me feeling worn out and discouraged. Here's hoping the longer-than-expected break from work enables me to tackle 2018 with renewed energy and enthusiasm. 

When I wasn't sleeping over the holidays, I spent a lot of time thinking about my intentions for 2018. Intuitively, I have a sense it's going to be a big year, filled with new adventures and challenges - but perhaps that's wishful thinking. So far, there's nothing to suggest there are major changes on the horizon - though I'm keeping a sharp eye out for interesting job prospects. 

On the running front, my expectations are modest. 2017 wasn't a great running year for me. Sure, I completed a few races in the spring and fall, but I ran all of them more slowly than I hoped and never got into a good training groove, despite kicking it up a notch in the early part of the year. More discouraging, my weight, which had remained pretty constant over the past few years, crept up to the point I felt positively chubby. Added to which, constant stiffness and joint pain were making it harder to run.

Fortunately, Husband announced at the end of November that he was willing to try going on the Plan for a few weeks, which was significant because he does most of the shopping and cooking and the burden of following the prescribed menus was going to fall mostly on him. Normally, neither of us is into dieting but we'd heard about the Plan from family and friends and thought it might be worth trying. We figured it couldn't hurt because the recommended recipes were healthy and calorie-full. In the end, we found we liked the food, and it worked for us. So far, I've lost nearly 9 pounds and Husband's down nearly 6, and we're both feeling more energetic and less achy overall - or at least we were until we got sick. 

Given our success to date, we've decided to carry on "planning" for awhile longer and couple that with more regular strength-training in hopes we'll be in better shape by the time gardening season rolls around. I'm hoping carrying less weight again will make running feel easier when I get back to it, but time will tell. I'm pretty darn stiff after laying around so much the past two weeks so more yoga is in order as well.

Anyway, back to those intentions. In terms of my physical health, what I most want is to end 2018 feeling comfortable in my skin - more flexible and energetic, as well as stronger - which of course means eating well, getting enough sleep and varying my exercise regime so its not so focused on running. With relatively little effort, all that should be do-able.

Emotionally and psychologically, my intentions are more challenging. I'm not particularly happy at work these days, and the situation isn't likely to change so I need to find a way to address that. I started exploring other opportunities before the holidays but there's still plenty I can do on that front.

Most importantly this year, I want to get more serious about practicing gratitude and compassion - towards myself and others - and to be braver and more accepting of "what is".

Case in point, I learned just before Christmas that I have a tiny cancerous lesion on my cheek. It's no big deal in the sense that the doctors who've examined it all assure me it's entirely treatable. I just need to have the darn thing removed. Nonetheless, I found myself feeling dismayed last week when the surgeon advised that I'll end up with a scar about an inch long. Of course, no one wants a scar in the middle of their face but I was annoyed with myself for finding the news so unsettling. What I should have felt was happy and grateful that the lesion was identified while it's so small and that I'm able to have it removed quickly. Chances are the scar won't be that bad and, anyway, now would be a good time to get over worrying about my looks and accept that I'm aging and my face is going to reflect that.

I'd like to be braver in other ways too. Husband and I have been talking for some time now about when I'm going to "retire" - by which we mean leave my reasonably well-paid government job to pursue other paid and unpaid opportunities, do more traveling, and work with him to develop our country property - but it's hard to give up the "golden handcuffs". I can't help worrying about what will happen if one of us gets really sick and we have to hire folks to look after us for an extended period. Of course, it's sensible to consider such contingencies, but the reality is none of us knows how much time we have, and Husband and I won't be able to tackle even half the projects we have in mind if I postpone retirement too long.

My intentions around gratitude and compassion have a lot to do with not beating up on myself when I fail to meet expectations, but also about being kinder and more understanding of other people. After all, we're all going through stuff others know nothing about.

Last but not least, I'd like to spend more time reading great books, writing, knitting, painting and doing whatever else flexes my creative muscles. With everything else going on, there wasn't much time for creativity in 2017 and I found I really missed it. If I want to live more creatively in retirement, I need to stay in practice.

In summary, my intentions for 2018 are to:

• get more comfortable in my skin
• deal with my work situation
• practice compassion and gratitude
• be braver and more accepting of what is
• spend more time doing creative activities

In addition to the above, I am of course planning to spend lots more happy times with this little guy.

What about you, gentle reader. What are your intentions for this bright new year?

Creative November Challenge Day #19: Dog people versus cat people

I've always thought of myself as a cat person. Until the Sausage (aka Jackie) arrived, we'd only ever had one dog - years ago when we lived in Papua New Guinea. His name was Canuck and he was an awesome mixed breed boy who smiled constantly. We inherited him from fellow volunteers returning  to Canada, and passed him on to other good-hearted folks when it came time for us to do the same. Honestly, as much as we loved him, I never thought we'd invite another dog to live with us given that, before and after Canuck, we only ever had cats.

If you'd asked me why I was a cat person, I would have said it was because cats are smarter, more interesting, cleaner, and easier to care for. I might also have mentioned that I feel more comfortable around cat people, who I generally think of as more intelligent, sensitive, introverted, creative, independent and - yes - more neurotic than dog people.

Many of my cat-loving friends express the firm view that they'd never have a dog. Take my friend, R., for instance. He's a cat person all the way, as you can tell in this photo.

Wait. What? Isn't that a dog into whose eyes he's gazing  so lovingly? Why, yes. Yes, it is. How strange. Because I assure you R. would never want a dog. He's said so dozens of time so it must be true. He prefers cats because they're independent and "stay out of his face"- a sentiment I've heard other cat people express often.

Now, some might characterize R's attitude as essentially selfish because he makes it sound like he doesn't want to commit the time and energy needed to care for a dog properly. But I know better.  The real reason R. and most of the other cat people I know can't bear the thought of having a dog is that they're so caring and sensitive that they can't imagine coping with the anxiety and guilt that come with having a dog.

Almost without exception, cats are independent and self-reliant enough to get along on their own for lengthy periods of time. Sure, they're happy to see their caregivers when they arrive home, but they don't go out of their way to make them feel guilty because they had to be gone all day working to pay for food and litter. Cats understand that their people have responsibilities, and do what they can to reduce their stress at the end of a long hard day.

Dogs are entirely different. When their caregivers arrive home - whether it's been 15 minutes or 6 hours since they left - they go out of their minds with happiness, whining with relief at their people's long-awaited return, insisting they must never ever leave them again, and so on and so on. Though such intense doggy affection can be endearing, it's positively disabling for cat people, who are simply too kind, sensitive and caring to cope with the emotional responsibility of a dog.

So the next time you assume that dog people as a group are more caring and loving than cat people, think again. Some dog people are every bit as caring and sensitive as cat people, but it ain't necessarily so. In fact, it's quite possible for a dog person to be a cold-hearted narcissistic jerk who doesn't give a damn about the health and well-being of his canine companions so long as they shower them with love and affection. Sad but true.